Countdown
by Monsterchild
Summary: He keeps counting. But it doesn't change anything.


Disclaimer: I don't own Push or any of the characters.

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**Countdown**

It's been **6 years** since we faked my death and escaped from Division. We have been running ever since. We moved from motel to motel, city to city, trying to stay off of Division's radar.

It's been **5 years** since Kira showed up again. She found us and inserted herself back into our lives, as though the last year had never happened. As though, Cassie and I hadn't survived without her. And, it seems stupid now, but we picked right back up where we left off before Carver got a hold of her.

It's been **4 years** since Kira left again, for good this time. If you would've asked me then, I would've told you that I had no idea why. That it was just some bullshit that I didn't understand about her being paranoid about Cassie. It didn't matter to her that Cassie was ten years younger than me, or that I saw her as only a little sister.

It's been **3 years** since Cassie's mom died while we tried to rescue her. Division Watchers saw us coming and they dangled her in front of our face like bait. We did what we could to save her but…. I guess she wasn't so important to them anymore. I remember Cassie cried off and on for a month. She tried to act tough, but when she didn't think I was looking or paying attention, I'd see her crying. I couldn't blame her, it reminded me too damn much of when my dad died. That's when Cassie stopped smiling.

It's been **2 years** since Kira was Pushed over the edge. It wasn't voluntary: she was Pushed into doing it. Someone, other than Division, saw her as a threat. Some organization of psychics that thought she was too powerful and that if she did turn to help Division, she'd be more trouble than she was worth. A group of ten or so Pushers cornered her. It didn't matter that she was stronger than all of them, she was outnumbered. Neither Cassie nor I cried for her. I wasn't sure why. That's when Cassie started spending more time in bed.

Finally, it's been **1 year** since Cassie got sick.

And I mean _really_ sick. I didn't even realize it at first. It started off small: a cough, maybe a slight fever, and a sore throat that just didn't want to go away, making her hoarse. We both kinda just figured it was a cold and that she would get over it soon enough.

But London changed everything.

We had just checked into a cheap motel on the dodgy end of the city. As soon as we got into the room, she went straight for the bathroom. I didn't think much of it. Until I heard her coughing again, this time more violently than ever before. I crept closer to the door to listen, cause I wanted to make sure that she was going to be okay.

The cough quickly turned to retching which after a few minutes (that was more like an eternity) turned to a soft sobbing. That was what made me worry for her the most. She didn't cry often. The crying over her mother had stopped almost two years ago, except for on the anniversary of her death.

I Moved the door open cautiously. I had no idea what I was going to find on the other side, so my breath caught in my chest in preparation.

Cassie laid on her side on the chipped vinyl floor, knees to her chest, her arms closing themselves around her head. Her blonde hair was spread out above her head like a sickly, yellow halo and her already pale skin looked almost translucent. Her body shook fiercely with each sob and a shiver overtook her between each one. She seemed to be having trouble breathing.

I stepped toward her and kneeled down next to her. I wanted to touch her forehead, but she had her entire head guarded by her arms and hands. I opted for her forearm instead. It was strangely clammy, a coldness of the skin that I couldn't even describe if I wanted to.

I tried to keep my voice as calm as possible as I asked, "Cassie, what the hell is going on?" Okay, maybe I could've been a little calmer….

Cassie slowly lowered her shield. She had blood escaping from the corner of her mouth and blood on her hands and upper arms from covering her face. Her bright blue eyes were dull and bloodshot, tears streaked down her cheeks. Her voice was raspy as she replied, "I'm sick."

I sighed. It wasn't as if I didn't know that already. "This isn't just sick, Cass. You're _ill_. We have to get you to a doctor."

She shook her head. "No," she gasped, sending herself into another coughing fit. Her entire body wracked with each one until it stopped. "It doesn't matter now."

My eyes traced her up and down. I didn't understand. Had she Seen this coming? And done nothing about it? "The future's always changing, Cass. You said it yourself."

A strangled sob escaped her, and I knew it was a sound that I would never forget. She sounded so scared, so helpless, and it sounded like a cry for help. My help.

"This future isn't going to change, Nick." She sounded so damn certain, and I didn't understand why.

"Tell me," I demanded. It came out harsher than I wanted it to, but I needed to know. "Tell me what you know that I don't."

Her arms shook as she used them to push herself into a sitting position. They were weak and couldn't support her. Eventually, she gave up and let her body fall back onto the hard floor with a revolting thud. I shifted myself to a sitting position and Moved her slowly until her head was on my lap. "I want to hear a story," I said, trying to make this easier on her. My hand stroked her hair gently as I waited.

Her voice was scratchy, weak. But she did what I asked. "Once upon a time, there was a girl. Her name was Cassie. And she had a best friend, named Nick. Together, they travelled the world, going from place to place. They were running from bad people, called Division. But because Nick and Cassie had powers, Division never caught up with them."

Even though I knew this part already, I listened to her intently. I liked hearing her act like a child. Because even when we met, she was not a child.

"But then things started to go wrong," she continued, her voice starting to sound on the sad side. "People came and left and people died. There was nothing that they could do about it.

"And then," she said finally, getting to the part that I didn't know, "Cassie got sick." Her still-bloody hands clenched themselves together and wrung themselves over and over. "It started out small. Just a slight fever, a cough, she was tired all the time. She and Nick thought that it was just a cold and that she would be better in no time. But they were wrong. Cassie got weaker and weaker over time, she began coughing up blood, she hurt all over, she couldn't see so well anymore, and she was getting thinner and thinner."

I looked her body over. I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed how skinny she had gotten. She was practically skin and bones now.

"Then Cassie's powers showed her what was wrong," she went on. She tilted her head up to look me in the eyes. "Her vision showed her at the doctor. The doctor told her that she was very, very sick. He said…" She took a deep ragged breath. "He told Cassie that she didn't have long."

My breath hitched. I guess I hadn't realized how serious this was. She was… she was dying…

"He said that…" She choked back tears, "that there was nothing that they could do now. She was going to die."

We sat in silence as she allowed me time to absorb what was happening. But I couldn't… I just couldn't even think about what all of this meant. Then, I went into panic mode. I lifted her head off my lap and scrambled to my feet. "This…" I stammered, "This can't be happening. You ca-can't be dying. There must be something we can do." I ran a hand through my hair. "A stitch! We can find a stitch!"

She finally managed to sit up, her weight pressing against the wall. "You know just as well as I do that Stitches can only fix what bleeders break…"

My breathing got heavy, and my body began to shake with… I don't know what. I just… couldn't handle it. My legs couldn't support me anymore and dropped to the floor. I could feel tears stinging the back of my eyes, but I wouldn't cry. I had to stay strong for her.

I took Cassie in my arms and held her head against my chest. Our heartbeats synced, and we sat there in silence for a while. Then eventually, I said, as comforting as I could, "Everything will be okay, Cass."

She didn't believe me. Neither did I.

It's been **6 months** since I realized my feelings for her. It took me six and a half years to figure out that the feelings that I had for this annoying little blonde weren't what I thought they were. It was… it was real love. I just had tried to convince myself otherwise. But I couldn't deny it anymore. I really loved her.

But I couldn't tell her. It killed me on the inside to hold those feelings in, but she had enough on her mind without having to shoulder my feelings for her. So I took it in stride, and I swore that I would never let her know.

So much for that.

It's been **5 months** since she became too weak to leave the room often. It hurt her too much to go out with me every day while I scammed money out of the locals. She used to come with me every day. But I didn't push it on her anymore. If she didn't want to go, she didn't have to.

We didn't travel as far with each move either. We used to travel three days before settling on a place, but she couldn't take it anymore. So we'd travel for a day at the most, then settle down. Unfortunately, this meant that we had to move on more often as well because Division would discover us quicker.

It's been **4 months** since she became too weak to leave her bed. Her bones ached too much for her to stand, let alone do anything else. I became waiting on her hand and foot, and surprisingly enough, it didn't bug me. I was happy to help her anyway I could. I wanted to take care of her. I carried her when we needed to head out, I didn't want to put her in any danger.

And, yeah, she did try to get up from time to time. She hated feeling helpless. She just wanted to feel useful. But I made sure that she was well taken care of.

It's been **3 months** since her visions stopped. They didn't stop completely, but they became too blurry to understand. She tried her best to tell me when we needed to move, but things just weren't clear.

We almost got caught by Division because of it. She Saw it clearly at the last minute. We escaped just in time, we saw them as we left the hotel room. They chased us for miles, until we managed to double back and lose them.

It's been **2 months** since I found out how she felt about me. She was having a bad night, and she didn't want to sleep in her bed alone. I crawled in next to her, wrapped her in my arms, and started to drift off. It was only a few minutes later when I heard her whisper, "I love you, Nick."

I wanted to respond. I wanted to tell her that I loved her too. But I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't let her know that I felt the same way. If she knew, it was likely that she would worry about how I'd feel after she was gone, and she didn't need that. It was just too late.

It's been **1 month** since everything came crashing down. She had been getting steadily worse and worse. And I finally lost it. I couldn't hold onto my feelings for her anymore. I came in the door from getting food for us. By this time, we had made it back to the US and were in Chicago. I came inside and saw her sitting at the small table by the window. "What're you doing outta bed?" I asked, setting the food down on the table.

She smiled up at me. It was weak and small, but I could still see it. "I just wanted to sit at a table for once," she croaked. Her voice had stopped sounding like her after a while.

I pulled the second chair around so that I could sit closer to her. I stared into her dulling blue eyes and took her cold hands in mine. "Are you sure? You should really be in bed. It could be-"

Her finger reached out and touched my lips, stopping me. Her eyes were watery and her voice cracked as she said, "I want to do this."

"But-" I started again.

"I don't have much longer, Nick," she said softly but evenly. "I just don't want to spend my last days stuck in a bed."

Her words hit me hard, right in the chest. I felt like I couldn't breathe for a moment, and I knew that this must've how she'd felt for a long time. "Don't say that, Cass," I breathed. "You don't know how long you have."

She shook her head slowly. "I know. I've Seen it."

Tears stung the back of my eyes. "Things can change…" I still couldn't accept that this was really happening. I just kept waiting to wake up from this horrible dream.

"I just don't want to spend my last days in a bed, not being able to even sit up," she continued. "I want to live."

I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't listen to her talk about dying, I couldn't hear it. And I couldn't hold out anymore.

I swung forward, capturing her lips in mine. My head started screaming at me, telling me how much of an idiot I was. It was telling me to back away and just laugh it off somehow. But my lips weren't listening.

It turned out that they didn't have to. It was weak, but I could feel her lips moving against mine. My hand cupped her neck and slid up into her hair. My second hand caressed her face, my thumb running over her cheek. I didn't want to let her go.

Eventually, we broke apart. She was out of breath and tears rimmed her eyes. And suddenly, I realized the weight of what I had just done. "Cassie, I… I'm sorry," I whispered.

She shook her head. "No, don't be," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's… it's nice to know that my feelings weren't one-sided."

I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off. "I'm not that hungry," she said, trying to get to her feet. "I just want to sleep."

I hurried to my feet and swept her up in my arms. Her blue eyes stared back at me, and I swear I could see a twinkle hidden in them. Like the ones I used to see, before she got sick. I held her close against my body as I walked her over to the bed. Laying her down, I laid next to her.

I placed my arm around her and pulled her close to me. "I love you, Cassie," I whispered in her ear.

Her body pressed against me. "I love you too, Nick," she replied.

That was the last thing she ever said. By morning, she was gone.

Secretly over the past few months, I'd been saving money up for a burial. But in the end, I realized a burial could prove problematic. It would mean that I would have to return to Chicago at least annually. So instead, she was cremated. I keep her remains with me at all times.

It's been **6 days** since I left Chicago. It took longer for me to leave Chicago than any other place. I didn't want to go from the last place where Cassie and I had been together.

It's been **5 days** since I realized that I wanted to go backwards. I started moving my way to the west coast. But it felt too lonely. So I went back the way I came.

It's been **4 days **since I began finding the places we had been. It stung a little bit. Then again, there seemed to be… I don't know… an essence of her still there.

It's been **3 days** since I began going out again. I hadn't done that since Cassie got sick. I only went out to get food and money. But I began going out at night to bars and clubs, trying to get fun back into my life.

It's been **2 days** since I started finding smiles where once there had been none. Girls started flirting with me again. And I didn't have to worry about the girl waiting for me back in the hotel room. It felt okay to do this kind of thing again. I was starting to forget her.

It's been **1 day** since I realized that I didn't want to forget her. I thought that I wanted to move on. But I don't. I miss her too much.

And sometimes, I stop to think of what life would be like if I hadn't been too late.

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AN: So this is my very first push fanfic. I'm not so happy with the ending, but the rest of it I like. I know the characters are a little OOC, but I tried. And don't asked what inspired this, it just kind of came to me. And for those of you who've read my stuff know that I usually go with a happy ending. I was just… I guess, in a mood… Anyways, please R&R, honesty is appreciated.


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